Chasing Forgotten Dreams
by Angel of the Axis
Summary: Everyone knows America: A happy-go-lucky oblivious man who dedicates his life to burgers and being the hero. But the America we all know isn't always happy…maybe even the opposite. Can anyone come to his rescue? Or is he broken beyond repair? Rated T for attempted suicide, yaoi, eating disorders and self-harm.
1. Country of the Fallen

**A/N: Welcome to Chasing Forgotten Dreams!**

**This _was_ originally a one-shot, but then I got really into it, and here ya go, a story!**

**Just be aware: I was near-suicidal myself when writing this, so it may get a little dark.**

* * *

_Everyone knows America: A happy-go-lucky oblivious man who dedicates his life to burgers and being the hero. But the America we all know isn't always happy…maybe even the opposite. Can anyone come to his rescue? Or is he broken beyond repair? Rated T for attempted suicide, eating disorders and self-harm._

Chapter 1: Broken Country

Everyone knows America.

He's the happy-go-lucky idiot who loves burgers and being the hero.

He's always smiling through tears and laughing through pain…or is he?

No. He's not.

That's just his mask. Every day, insults shot and pride declining.

All he knew anymore was the pocketknife on his side table, the one he used to cut himself.

Nobody liked him anymore.

_Slash._

Nobody cared anymore.

_Deep cut._

America couldn't handle it anymore; All the insults, snide remarks…he just couldn't take it.

All it took was one final stretch on the string of his life…

And then came the day the string snapped.

America had been late to the meeting _again,_ and all because he'd forgotten that it was today, too.

America drove past McDonalds for the first time in his whole life; He simply didn't have enough time to eat, although he was starving.

Not that it would ever matter to the other nations, though.

Everyone hated him. Even America could figure that out.

No one wanted to love him. He knew it.

Arthur: Oh, hell no. Even though he fought for him when he was a baby, he knew that it was all lies. Lies, lies, lies. Arthur never cared for him much.

Francis: No. All he ever thought about America was perverted thoughts. Even America couldn't prevent that. France wanted to bang everyone at one point or another, anyways. Well...okay, make Russia an exception to that.

Canada: No way. He was the very reason Canada got bullied by all the other nations. He just couldn't count the times Canada had gave him disappointed looks, doing nothing when England yelled at him anymore. No one came to his rescue, though. They were all too busy being their normal selves.

Italy: Even America knew that Italy couldn't bring himself to hate him, being the soft, sensitive, big-hearted goofball nation he was, he probably just held a strong distaste for his atmosphere-searching partner. Or…used-to-be atmosphere searching-partner, at least.

So, America decided, this was going to be the day he actually helped them a bit.

He was going to commit suicide.

He patted the small pistol in the passenger seat. _'Yup. Today I'm finally going to help them.'_

Once he'd gotten to the meeting, he received a slap on the head by none other than England.

"You're late _again_, you git," He hissed.

America simply smiled a pained smile, not saying anything, hoping that England didn't notice his smile was different.

As England went back to his seat, America stepped up to the podium to give his regular idiotic speech about some international phenomenon he thought should have something done about (And honestly didn't really care much for), when suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his neck.

"Bullseye!" Some random nation snickered.

America made a face and pulled out the paper airplane sticking out of his neck, not seeing the look England gave to the nation as he started to speak.

THWAP!

"SO got him!" Another cheered. Another dirty look from England shut them up.

And then that string snapped.

America fell to his knees, to the amusement and slight horror of several nations, shaking and twitching uncontrollably.

"Oi! Somebody help him up. We need a target!" Another yelled.

"**NO!"**

…

…Every nation fell silent at America's enraged outburst.

"God **damn **it! Don't you care?! Don't you know how hard it is anymore?!" America shouted at the top of his lungs, face distorting in rage and sadness.

"Can someone shut him up? I'm trying to sleep." Greece griped.

"That's it! If you want me gone so badly, all you had to do was ask!" America whispered, pulling out the gun and putting it to his forehead.

Suddenly, the whole world realized what America was about to do.

"A-America, wait! Please, stop! Listen to us! We-" Canada started to panic, standing up from his seat at the meeting table.

"Goodbye, everyone. I hope I've made you happy now." America whispered, smiling at Canada and England as he pulled the trigger.

* * *

Screaming.

The entire room filled with shouts, shrieks, yells, screams and the like, all in panic when the shot rang through the tension-thick air.

America had killed himself.

America had committed suicide.

The United States of America, the proud, strong, loveable nation was no more.

"God damn!" a random country shouted.

Italy, normally the screaming and crying while panicking one, just sat there in a daze, his brain unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Canada, one of the ones who'd constantly blamed America in his head for every bad thing that had happened, fell to his knees, yelling at no one to get America to wake up with tears streaming down his face, his soft voice breaking into a louder, more bold one.

Germany, usually the one who was calm, collected and such, ran up to America, screaming and slapping and shaking him, trying to get him to awaken.

Everyone was in an uproar, especially the ones closest to America.

Arthur ran to America's lifeless body, tears falling and staining America's brown bomber jacket, now stained with his blood.

Francis just sat on the floor, realization finally settling in as tears rolled down his cheeks repeatedly.

Nobody knew what to do anymore.

Everyone was in chaos, and no one regretted what they'd done to him more than England.

"My colony…my colony, my little boy…" He kept muttering, squeezing America's chest tightly while Prussia tried to calm him down. For once, he didn't fight against him and held America.

"Mon cher, I'm so sorry…" Francis trailed off, hugging England comfortingly.

"America, wake up! Please, wake up! I'm sorry! _We're_ sorry! Just please wake up, already!" Canada yelled at him, holding his hand tightly.

Germany wasn't getting a headache by now, even when Italy took the time to shout.

"Everyone, shut the hell up!" He screamed, his curl twisted into a crooked one.

Everyone froze, staring at the normally crying, laughing and 'Ve~'ing Italian, who was now panting, with several tears cascading down his face.

"Everyone, think for a moment! America is a nation. America cannot die by normal standards! Now let's all be calm and get him to a hospital, where he can get treated and can survive!" Italy commanded, his hidden Mafioso side coming out as he wiped away the new tears threatening to fall.

Every nation nodded as England, Canada and France lifted the American, getting him out the door as every nation followed them, Sealand taking the time to play a sad, slow song on his flute.

Once they got to the nearest hospital in America, they were instantly admitted, and everyone sat down on the nearest seats, which were a lot, since almost no one was waiting in the hospital at this time, and some sat on the floor, some conversed separately, and England, Canada and France, or the FACE family, as other nations called them (Minus America), went to talk to the nurse, trying to let them see America one last time before he was taken away for surgery.

"Please, just let me kiss my little boy one last time," England pleaded.

The nurse finally sighed. "Fine, but make it quick. The longer we wait, the less chances he have of him actually surviving this one."

England thanked her quickly and reached down to America, kissing his cold cheek.

"Please be okay, America." He whispered. "I love you with all my heart."

Canada was next, sniffling quietly as he hugged his brother one last time, the usual warmth and life missing in his broken body.

France just smiled sadly and placed a single red, white and blue rose in his hands, clasping both of America's cold and clammy hands around the stem.

Several other nations stepped forward, all giving America a single green rose for luck as the FCE family watched, then all stepped back.

England suddenly started to cry, trying to blink back his tears as the world watched with heavy hearts as America was rushed down the hall by five nurses for his surgery, one that might just save his life.

As America disappeared from sight, Italy started to sniffle, holding onto Germany for comfort, Japan patting his back.

"He was my boy…I'm so sorry, America…I'll never yell at you again if you survive…" England cried, snuggling into France's soothing embrace with Canada at his left, other nations either sniffling, sobbing quietly or just plain blinking back tears as they tried to converse with each other or find something to do while they waited.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about this. Real sorry.**

**Looking back, though, America and I have a lot in common. But that's another story for another time.**

**Oh, and the sad, slow song on Sealand's flute?**

***smug look* Death from HetaOni. BJ**

**Oh, and dear X,**

**I understand your criticism, but Sealand played a SAD, SLOW song. Kind of a mournful tune. Get it now?**

**Please stay tuned for more!**


	2. Blank

**A/N: Welcome to the next chapter of Chasing Forgotten Dreams!**

**The pairing, for those who were wondering, is mainly the FACE family, some GerIta, and there may be more pairings later on. We'll just have to see~**

* * *

Chapter 2: Blank

Hours later...

"Excuse me, but is there an Arthur Kirkland, a Francis Bonnefoy and a Matthew Williams in the room?" The nurse called, holding a clipboard and a pen.

England shot out of his seat like a rocket, and Francis stood up, putting his hand on England's shoulder, Canada having fell asleep next to him.

Francis turned to Canada, and gently shook him awake, murmuring comforting phrases in French.

Canada blinked sleepily, yawning in his sleeve.

Francis helped him sit up, and eventually stand up.

The nurse looked to be slightly disgusted at the three members of the family, but said nothing as she lead them to Alfred's room, England shooting Germany a look to keep the others situated for a while longer.

Germany nodded, and tried to tell everyone to think of ways to keep everyone subdued, while the nurse was at the end of the hall, knocking on America's hospital door.

...There was no answer.

"I must warn you, though," She started. "He can't talk yet, because of his last surgery. He can only communicate through pen and paper, and some of his memory was erased. He might not know you anymore."

The nurse opened the door, and the sight made Canada nearly faint. Nearly.

America's hair was all cut off, his head having some dried, flaky-looking blood on it from that afternoon, there being bandages wrapped around almost his entire head, except for his face. His eyes were near-hollow, if it weren't for that one spark of life in there. His mouth was pressed in a thin line, and he looked oh, so small and fragile in that hospital bed. As his head was turned towards the ceiling, his eyes moved to stare mindlessly at England.

England found tears coming to his eyes, and he let out a relieved sob as he ran to America, hugging him tightly.

France came up behind, smiling at him while patting England's back as he quivvered from shaky sobs.

Canada finally got over his shock, and ran to his brother, hugging him along with England.

America quickly snatched up a pen and a drawing pad, and hastily scribbled a message in child-like handwriting: "You hate me?"

France shook his head. "We were so worried for you, Amerique, you have no idea. Every nation in the world is waiting to see you."

England finally looked up at America, his eyes red and slightly puffy from crying so much.

"America," He started in a shaky, but firm voice. "If you ever kill yourself again like that, especially in front of us, I'll never, ever forgive you."

That being said, he dropped himself down to America's chest again, to keep hugging him.

France patted America's shoulder. "Which nations do you want to see next?" He asked.

America just smiled like a toddler.

"I think I know who," Canada piped up. "I think he wants the Axis."

* * *

When at last England, France and Canada came back, the nurse came back into the room.

"Is there an 'Axis' here by any chance?" She frowned, obviously confused.

Germany, Italy and Japan stood up. "That is us," Germany announced.

The nurse nodded and guestured with her hand. "Come with me."

The nurse opened the door once more, and Italy's eyes popped wide open, as Germany stared and Japan fainted.

America's head was still pointed towards the ceiling, his eyes still hollow and near-lifeless.

America's mouth was in a small, content smile, probably not knowing why all these people were visiting him.

Germany snapped to attention and walked to America, his normally-passive piercing blue eyes protraying genuine worry for the loud, goofy American.

"America~ Ve, oh, America! Don't do that ever again! You had me so worried, Ve!" Italy cried, his eyes shutting again, anime-like tears at the corners of his eyes.

Germany held Japan in his arm, reaching out a hand to America.

America flinched at Germany's hand, thinking that he would strike him, but instead, Germany patted America's arm.

"America? What's wrong with your voice...?" Italy trailed off as he saw the drawing pad in America's hands.

America sat up a little and scribbled down a new message: "I can't talk."

Japan slowly came to, and saw America's message.

"Alfred," He began. "Why did you do this?"

America showed him his first sentence, somewhat clueless as to what he was talking about.

Japan's eyes widened. "America, I don't hate you!"

Japan took America's unoccupied hand in his, his eyes hardening some at the American.

"America, if I hated you, I would've taken away all my manga, anime, and other stuff in your country years ago. If I hated you, I wouldn't be here right now, trying to get you to understand. If anything, I...I love you. Uh, brotherly, of course!"

America just looked at Japan's hand, and slowly started to play with it like an infant, forgetting the pad and pen.

"Ameri-" Japan looked down, and sighed.

"America," Italy began.

America slowly shifted his attention from Japan to Italy, his eyes portraying confusion.

"America, if I hated you, I wouldn't have brought pasta or pizza to your nation. Ve, you could say that I also like you~! But please, try to hold on. Although times are hard, don't think that suicide will help any of us. Sure, you're kind of hard to get along with sometimes, but no one can really hate you."

Italy smiled at America, opened his eyes and softly kissed his hand.

America traced his gaze from Italy, to his hand, and back to Italy, before finally staring blankly at the German in the room.

Germany chuckled a little. "My my, America. Even I never would've guessed that we'd end up in here, trying to convince you that suicide is never the answer. And yet, I think I like you better when you're mute. But even though we've gone to war against each other, I'd like a fresh start if that's okay with you."

America opened his mouth and tried to speak.

A little sound came out of his mouth, sounding like 'Who?'.

Germany stared calmly at America. "So you don't remember me? Well, then my name is Ludwig Bieldshmidt, or the personification of Germany. These are my allies, Feliciano Vargas, or Italy, and Kiku Honda, or Japan."

America nodded, and tried to speak once again.

"L...L...Lu..." He frowned, then tried again.

"L...L-Lud..."

Italy gasped in excitement. "He's speaking...He's speaking!"

"L-Lud...Luwig."

Germany shook his head. "Ludwig. Not Luwig, Ludwig. Try again."

America nodded and tried harder than he'd ever tried before.

"L...Lu...Lud...Lud-Ludwig."

Italy clapped. "Yay~ He did it!"

The nurse was impressed. "How on earth did you get him to do that?"

Germany shrugged. "He simply believed he could do it."

"Ludwig! Ludwig!" America seemed pleased with himself, reaching for Germany's gloved hands.

Germany complied, reaching out to touch America's fragile, bandaged one.

America seemed mesmerized, and played with it while Italy's eyes sparkled.

"Ve~ America, can you say my name?"

America turned towards Italy.

"I...Ita...Ita-ly." He stated.

Italy giggled like a schoolgirl. "Now my real name! Can you say 'Feliciano'?"

America let go of Germany's hand and thought.

"Fe...Feli...F-Fel...Feliciano?"

Italy clapped and nodded. "Yes! That's my name!"

Japan smiled softly down at the childlike nation as he smiled proudly, proud of himself for pleasing Italy.

At last, America turned to Japan. "J...J..."

Japan continued to smile, quickly grabbing America's pad and pen, drawing an anime character based upon America's old self, minus the depressed part.

As Japan slowly turned the paper to face America, said nation was speechless, eyes wide at the person on the paper. He looked to Japan, and then to the cartoony character.

"America." Japan stated. "A-me-ri-ca."

America concentrated hard, and moved his lips to speak. "A...me?"

Japan shook his head, a small grin settling on his face. "A-me-ri-ca."

"A...me...ri...ca..." America said slowly, then beamed. "A-me-ri-ca! America! Amer..."

He suddenly paused, blinking. He suddenly looked up at Japan, and, with a sullen face, tried to speak.

"...J...Japan? Is...is that you?"

Japan's eyes widened and Italy 've~'ed.

"Yes, America. It's us. Can you remember...?" Germany tried.

America turned slowly to Germany. "Ludwig...was I...?"

Germany nodded slowly. "You were."

America looked back down at his lap, unable to process this new information, when all of a sudden, his heartbeat began to increase drastically, and he held his heart while trying to breathe evenly.

"America? America!" Italy yelled.

"Quick, call a nurse!" Germany ordered, and Japan nodded, disappearing into the hall.

America, having no strength left, collapsed onto the pillow, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

The last thing he remembered was seeing Italy's concerned face.

"Hold on, America! Hold on!..."

His voice echoed in America's head endlessly, until he fell unconscious.

_"Hold on..."_

_"Hold on..."_

_"...Hold on..."_

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! It makes my day.**


	3. Holding On

**A/N: Welcome to the next chapter of Chasing Forgotten Dreams!**

**Thanks to all those who reviewed/favorited/followed! It made my day!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3: Holding On

It was several hours before anyone was permitted to see America again.

Italy cried and cried, blubbering something about it being his fault for America's memory overload, but was calmed down when Germany wrapped his arms around the smaller nation in an act to calm him down completely. It worked, for the most part.

England stared straight at the floor, unable to comprehend what had happened only the day before.

"Angleterre..." France rubbed the Brit's back soothingly, whispering phrases in English to the younger nation. "Amerique must be in a better place right now. Don't worry, you'll get to see him again, mon amour."

England sighed heavily. "It's just...It's not the same! I want the old America back. _Everyone_ wants the old America back. I just..."

Tears slowly made themselves present in his jade orbs.

"And yet I just sat there, not doing anything about everyone else...Everyone who bullied my little colony..." England choked. "I'm a fool, and we all know it. There's just so much I haven't said, so much I _need_ to say to him, France. I...I love him."

France smiled a small, understanding smile. "I understand, Britian. But let me tell you this: The longer you wait, the harder it'll be. Just let him know the truth. Let him know how you feel."

England gave France a teary smile in return, and hugged him.

"Thanks, Francis. I think this is the first honest conversation we've had in a while."

Francis placed a kiss in England's hair. "Vous êtes les bienvenus, en Angleterre. Now, all that's left to do is wait, and pray that God will save him, le pays de la liberté et la patrie des braves."

England sighed softly, closing his eyes as he embraced France's warmth, and slowly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

In the early morning light, the same nurse came out into the waiting lobby, where a few nations who had remained awake nudged the others, and England slowly rubbed his eyes, yawning behind his hand.

"You are free to see him now," The nurse began quietly. "But you must be very quiet, for he is still sleeping."

France nodded and stood up, pulling England with him, and Canada struggled to awaken fully as the four walked down the hall in a stifling silence, almost like they were being led to their execution.

After what seemed like hours, the nurse stopped at a door and opened it softly enough so that it wouldn't make noise, and let Canada and France inside, stopping England to speak to him.

As she closed the door, her face shifted into a serious one.

"Mr. Kirkland, Alfred's heart is very weak. He may not live through the night, but if we can somehow fix his heart, he may live up to another thirty years." She murmured to him, obviously oblivious to the fact that America was a nation, a part of the Hetalian Federal Nations Commitee (Or HFNC for short), and that as long as his capital wasn't burned and as long as he didn't die in the process, he could survive a lot longer than what the nurse suggested.

England blinked back tears once again, but nodded solemnly, and the nurse gently opened the door so he could go inside, joining Canada and France.

"How is he?" He whispered.

France smiled to him. "He's sleeping like an angel."

Canada's eyes were glazed over. "Just like when we were little," He muttered.

England sniffled a little as he took a hold of America's feeble, fragile-looking hand, and cradled it to his chest gently.

He absentmindedly began to hum America's favorite lullaby from when he was little, and for a split second, he saw the glimmer of a smile on America's face.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it was so short! I tried to write this while in a phone conversation with my dad.**

**Angleterre: England**

**Mon Amour: My love**

**Amerique: America**

**Vous êtes les bienvenus, en Angleterre: You're welcome, England**

**Le pays de la liberté et la patrie des braves: The land of the free and the home of the brave**

**I'm sorry if any of the French is inaccurate; I used Google Translate. ;A;**

**Please review!**


End file.
